The first time round I had griped and crabbed – cynically sounding off at the cinema screen – having felt cheated by the poorly scripted sequel.

"The future has not been written," groused John Connor, the hero from the film 'Terminator Salvation'. "There is no fate but what we make for ourselves."

As I listened to the words this time around, I nodded in mute agreement feeling too inert to do anything much besides reach for another handful of popcorn; only to come up empty.

While house-sitting for our grandmother, my brother and I borrowed some of her hidden medicinal marijuana, using it to bake ourselves a batch of brownies. As we waited for the 'medicinal' effects to kick in, we sat down to watch a Terminator movie marathon.

"We're out of popcorn." My mouth felt dry as I battled to get my tongue to work properly.

"We should make some more." My brother Luke dead-panned, and although four years younger than me, seemed like a wizened old man in that moment. More popcorn was a brilliant idea.

"Sure," I grunted, rising to my feet. Grabbing the bowl nestled between us, I slid on my slippers and made my way to the kitchen. "I'm gonna make sweet popcorn this time," I threw over my shoulder, but my statement was met with the TV sound levels increasing.

"OK fine, salty! Turn the TV down!" I spun around irritated as the sound levels stayed deafeningly high. "I said fine…" I began, before a grey green flash engulfed the room and I staggered back, a hand raised against the shock of light.

The living room abruptly fell silent. "What the hell? What was that?". I rapidly blinked away my blurry vision, searching the room for my brother. "Are you alri…" I choked on the remainder of my sentence as I stood in awe, struggling to comprehend the scene in front of me.

John Connor – or rather Christian Bale in full Terminator Salvation garb – stood in the middle of the living room, with an arm wound around my brother's neck, his hand covering Luke's mouth. My brothers eyes were wide with panic as he struggled against the solid arm holding him in place.

"You're Christian Bale." I uttered in a breathless stupor. "Wai.. what are.. what the hell are you doing to my brother?" I took a step forward, but his hardened look made me halt my advance.

"My name is John Connor." The man groused out. I barked out a laugh, a sound so surprising in such a surreal moment, even my brother stopped struggling to peer oddly at me with scared eyes.

I gave the man's dusty clothes a quick once over. "I don't know who you are, but that is John Connor." I jutted a finger indicating the TV, turning to find the film on pause.

I recognised the scene. It was the one in which John Connor faced down the Kyle Reese, chaining him up in the rebel underground. Except now, there was no John Connor where a John Connor should be.

"I am John Connor." The man in front of me repeated, as my shock now gave way to fear. Christian Bale look-alike or not, this man had Luke by the neck and was carrying what I'd only now noticed to be a rifle across his back. "And you are the latest Sky-net upgrade. I have to say…" he peered over my body, his eyes curious. "You act almost human."

Writers Digest Prompt : A movie hero steps out of your television and proclaims that you are his/her arch-nemesis. Write about what happens. Post your response (500 words or fewer).

Authors Note :Meh, I'm not all that happy with this as it took me ages just to work out which film to write about. The main characters reaction seems a little too relaxed (then again, as they are baked at the time, maybe its just right). Also, I wrote this in a bit of a rush as its NaNoWriMo right now and I am focused on trying to get in my daily word count for the novel I'm writing

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